Gonna Need a Bigger Can of Raid
by Alpha-alien
Summary: /"Giant bugs. Giant bugs! Jesus, that old gal was right!" he said, still trying to grasp the logic that evaded him. "And they talk!"/ -  Oneshot/Rating due to paranoia. Warnings and such inside.


Kind of came up with this one while watching the old G1 cartoons.

I did some digging and saw that, yes there _were_ Insecticons in RotF, they were more like drones.

I decided to rectify that problem.

Things to note: I write mostly horror. Sorry if this isn't as great as I'd like it to be.

Considering what it's about, I'd call it a crackfic. Then again, I'm strange, so I don't really know ...

While I'm sure this would be fine under the K+ rating, I've made it T, because I'm cautious like that.

Reviews are appreciated.

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Gonna Need a Bigger Can of Raid

Giant bugs. _Giant bugs_. Mike had to clean out his ear with his pinky finger, asking the woman to repeat herself.

"You heard me! I know it sounds crazy, but they're here! Three of them! They're eating everything!" she wailed, and Mike half wondered if he was on the receiving end of an asylum-bound prank caller.

"You have to forgive me, it's hard for me to even _fathom – _"

"Just get your ass over here, before they turn on my house!" there was a loud click and the line droned on with a monotone _beeeeeeep_. Mike winced and looked down at the slip of paper he had written her address on. He sighed.

"I don't get paid enough for this." He muttered. Sighing, he hung up the receiver and prepared to head out.

Mike pulled into the driveway, and noticed a woman peering out from a window. He frowned, hoisted his wheelpump sprayer out of the van. He walked towards the door and knocked.

"Mrs. Anderson?" The door opened and the woman looked up at Mike. She was rather old, and Mike began to think she was going senile.

"Took you long enough." She eyed Mike up and down, and then looked at his sprayer. "You gonna need more than that to deal with these bastards. They ate my husband's old rust bucket." Mike raised an eyebrow.

"They ate your husband's, er, _rust bucket_?"

"Don't call Marybeth a 'rust bucket'!" The woman screamed, her eyes resembling that of a wild animal's, "She's been the best truck we've had! Took her ten years before she broke down, bless her … "Mike shook his head.

A loud chirping reached his ears, and the woman recoiled back into her house. "That's them!" she hissed, her voice coming just above a whisper, "They're monsters! Get rid of them, _now_!" The door slammed in his face. Mike sighed.

"I definitely don't get paid enough." He began to walk around the house, thinking of as many insults he could throw at the old hag that professionalism, and his upbringings, wouldn't allow him to hurl.

In the back, Mike froze, gazing at the destruction. Trees were toppled over, large chunks missing from them; grass was cut down to nothing but dirt in most places; field of, what Mike assumed used to be, wheat was devoured, leaving a lone scarecrow – he also looked gnawed on – to survey the damage with a smile on his face. Mike took off his hand, scratching his head. "What in God's name caused this?" the chirping from before reached his ears, and Mike turned his head. Large, overgrown grass, virtually untouched by whatever had attacked this house, met his gaze. He cautiously approached the grass, holding onto his sprayer as it creaked quietly behind him.

The grass tickled and made him itch. Mike could only imagine what all could be living in the grass – it practically reached his waist! – as he continued on, deeper into the brush. The chirping steadily got louder, and Mike half expected to find a large colony of cicadas. No such luck was offered. Gnawing on a large pine were three bugs – were they even bugs? They were too huge to be. Mike dropped the hose of his sprayer and stared in awe at the trio as they tore through the trunk. One looked to be a large locust; another, a boll weevil; and the last, a lamellicorn. Mike found himself praying as the latter raised it's head.

"It seems we have a guest, guest." It whispered, a metallic ping resonating in it's voice. The other two looked up as well.

"What shall we do, Shrapnel?" the locust asked, it's gaze fixed on Mike. Mike realized he had forgotten how to speak, as a scream was caught in his throat, tearing at his Adam's apple to escape. The lamellicorn huffed and dislodged itself from the tree.

"We will teach this _fleshy_ to interrupt us, us." Mike decided screaming wasn't needed, he still had control of his legs, and at the thought of running, they tore back through the grass. He was only partially aware of the sound of rushing air behind him, and he dared not look back.

"Giant bugs. _Giant bugs_! Jesus, that old gal was right!" he said, still trying to grasp the logic that evaded him. "And they talk!"

"He's getting away!" The locust howled, looking down at the fleeing human. The boll weevil snorted.

"I'll get him." He quickly descended, aiming his horn at the back of the human's head.

"Bombshell!" The locust hissed as the weevil fired a tiny projectile.

Mike glanced back, hearing a low _bang_ and found himself spinning in place and falling onto his back. Something hit him – a bullet? Was he dead? Mike kept his eyes closed, as he felt something take over – and it wasn't death.

The three insects landed, their bodies shifting into more _human_ features. Each one was colored black, hints of purple decorated their forms in some way, and yellow dominated their torsos and parts of their heads. Each also bore a scowling purple crown on their chests.

Bombshell gave the human a once-over. "He still functions." He stated, turning towards the lamellicorn, Shrapnel, who snorted.

"No thank_s_ to _you_, you. We have to be more careful, careful. Don't want the fleshies to find out about us before we regain our strength, strength." He knelt down next to Mike as the locust turned his head towards the house.

"That human keeps sending more out here. I wonder why." He mused. Bombshell shrugged.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Kickback," he said, patting his companion on the back. "But does it really matter? I keep injecting them with my cerebro-shells, so by the time we get our strength back, we'll have a nice army of humans to command over."

"C'mon. We got food that's getting cold." He shifted his body back to his insectoid stage and flew off. Kickback and Shrapnel followed suit.

Mike woke with his head throbbing. He placed a hand to his forehead, and quickly withdrew it. _Blood_. "Did I hit my head?" He looked around, and found no rock or piece of wood. He rubbed his head, removing most of the dried blood, and grabbed his hat. He placed it back on his head and stood. He had come here to do _something_. To … exterminate a pest problem. He fought with his memory to try and grasp anything after that, and came up with nothing.

"I guess my work here is done." He turned and walked back towards his van. The woman peered out of her window, glaring. Mike waved to her as he drove off. She huffed.

"Damn kids."


End file.
